Lore
by teawithsilk
Summary: When an organization arises,both supporting and working against Quantum,James and M16 must decide whether they are a godsend or just another enemy.How guilty does M feel after she drags another girl from the office into the game of lies and spies?
1. Chapter 1

This is just a small story I started working on when I came up with the idea. I'll continue if people want me too, I enjoy writing it. Rated for some language. Reviews are love, people! Thanks for reading!

And, I own nothing from the books/movies.

XOX

teawithsilk

Chapter One

"Emma, do an old lady a favor, would you?" M stepped out of her office and called into the cubicles on the fourteenth floor of one of the many common office buildings in London.

With a noisy screech of a chair on the floor, Emma Linton rose and walked over towards M. "You don't look a day over 30! Who are you calling old?" She grinned at her boss and squeezed the woman's shoulder. After being motioned in by M, Emma stepped inside her superior's spacious corner office. _She quite liked the new building. _

Emma looked around the office. The walls were a generic, stark white. A mahogany desk sat in the center of the room with a typical office chair stationed behind it and a comfortable looking armed, brown leather seat on the other side of the desk. Emma waited for M to assume her place behind her desk before sitting in the leather chair herself. She eyed the wooden filing cabinet in the right corner of the room and wondered how long it would take the older woman to go electronic. _Old habits died hard, apparently. _Taking a calm happy breath, Emma stared out the two windows looking over London. She could see the Thames from this office. _Wow, she loved the new building. _

"This might come as a surprise for you, _but _I need a small favor." M smiled and prepared herself to lie to one of her favorite office mates. "I haven't told anyone this." She laughed. "Well, I never talk about my husband."

Emma smiled too. "No, you never talk about him." She chuckled to herself. "You don't get to blackmail him with the classic 'wait 'til I tell that one at lunch tomorrow' do you?"

M nodded. "Dear Jeffrey's birthday is coming up. And we were married on the same day."

The younger in the room smiled. "Aww."

"He is very fond of Lord Byron's works." M smiled and pulled out a book of poetry and other literature. "I have contacted dealers all across the globe, Emma. And finally, I came into contact with one who had a journal kept by Byron shortly before his death in Greece."

Emma smiled and shook her head. "However did you find this man?"

"It took a lot of work. But he is in Paris. And I am very busy here. I need someone to fly to Paris and pick up the journal for me." M smiled at Emma. "It is a private jet, private airfield, everything. There is no need to worry about security checks or what not to bring."

The woman stared at her boss. "You are giving me a trip to Paris? Honestly?"

"Yes, three days."

"I accept!" Miss Emma Linton rose from her seat and hugged M.

"Very good." M opened a drawer and pulled out a passport and a plane ticket. She pushed them across the desk towards Emma. "You will be briefed upon arrival at your destination."

Emma creased her brow and stared at M. "I'm picking up a birthday present right, not a bomb or a particle separator?"

Laughing, M leaned back in her chair. "No, no. Just a journal for Jeffrey."

"Okay. Just making sure. When do I leave?"

"Tonight."

"O-oh alright. I should start packing."

"Yes, you are dismissed." The older woman smiled, got up and held the door open for Emma. "Have a good time, my girl."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

He sighed noisily and pressed the accelerator to the floor of the car. He had been chasing the bugger for three bloody hours. It was quickly becoming a matter of who ran out of fuel first. James turned the wheel sharply and his new Aston Martin screeched around a corner and into another side street in Prague.

The heathen had murdered 003. Mr. Bond couldn't let that go unpunished. For nearly ten years, he had looked up to the graying man. Any questions, doubts, or misconceptions he had were resolved by 003. Back in the days where he had secretly worshipped the double 0's, the older man was his favorite. And now he was dead. By the hands of some rookie rogue agent from the Republic of Whoknowswhere.

Growling menacingly, James pulled a gun out of jacket pocket and fired through his own wind shield. _Third car this month. To hell with it all. _His eyes flickered from the curving road and back towards the car in front of his. He fired a few more times, covering his face with his upper arm to shield himself from backward flying glass shards.

Smiling slightly with satisfaction, he blew out the rear glass of the rogue agent's Porsche Cayman, leaving his target exposed and easily terminable. _One shot. That's all it takes. One shot. _Bond set his eyes on the road once more. No curves or turns were visible. _Good. _He concentrated on the man's shoulder and fired. _Short son of a bitch. _

The Porsche swerved and nearly careened into a golden bricked building. James smirked. The car would soon come to a stop. Although much more quickly than he had expected.

The black coupe shrieked to a halt, the red brake lights glinting off the wall under the roofed, evidently private street. James quickly popped the door open but strolled over to the Porsche. It was only a semi-surprise when the driver's side door on the Porsche opened and a man stepped out, hands raised in surrender.

"There's no need for violence here. What do you want?" The tall, dark rogue agent spoke in unaccented, untraceable, perfect English.

James rose an eyebrow. _No need for violence. _He eyed the man's bleeding shoulder. A gushing wound was hiding beneath a bullet-sized hole in a designer suit. His icy eyes froze on the man's other shoulder. _No need for violence his ass. _Bond lifted his hand and gave 003's killer a matching shoulder wound.

The rogue agent grunted and looked at James with eyed full of unhidden contempt. "What do you _want_?"

"You killed my friend." James took a step towards the other man. He was taller than the raven haired enemy. "What's your name?"

He grimaced and rolled his shoulders back. "My name?" Still grimacing, he regained as much composure as he could. "My name is Viduus."

"Viduus? Is that correct?" James eyed the weakening man before him. _When would he make an attempt to defend himself? _"What is your _real _name?"

He lifted his head. "Viduus. That is my name."

Bond sighed. "Alright." No sound was made in the alley. James was smart enough to have fitted his gun with a silencer. But one man lay dead in the back streets of Prague.

Driving away, Bond was scowling in thought. "Viduus…..The Roman god who separates the body from the soul at death…….."

_Who the hell were these people?_

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Paris was gorgeous at night. The lights gave the city a soft glow and a harsh shine at the same time. He leaned against the column of the small bistro and stared out at the Eiffel Tower. As much as he wanted to go to a tourist trap, public places _with security cameras_ didn't suit him much.

His lips, noticeable fuller in the center than at the sides, curled into a content smile. A fading pink scar ran from the bottom of the man's right cheek, down to the top of his upper lip. His eyes were a dark, stormy blue. Women had compared his eyes in the past to a tempestuous Baltic Sea. _Interesting creatures they were. _

He was Russian, from St. Petersburg. He was a proud man. Though still in his late twenties, and labeled mostly as a young man. "Here is the eau de vie you asked for, sir."

A small waiter poked his head from out of the bistro door. He walked over to his patron, back straight; shoulders pushed back, holding a tray in front of him with an arm tucked behind his back. His uniform was nothing more than an all black ensemble with a towel tucked into his belt.

The patron gingerly lifted the round, fat glass. He eyed the clear liquid cautiously before nodding his head at it and looking down at the waiter. "Merci."

Smiling, the waiter took one long last look at the man. Very tall. He looked down at the folded bills crumpled in his hand. _Odd. _He had been paid extra for bringing the man's drink outside. Usually, it was a few more euro in his tip, not a wad of cash. Stepping back into his brother's restaurant, he wondered if there were any laws or codes about drinking in public.

Seeing the waiter was gone, he eyed the drink once more. Clear liquids made him nervous. There were so many things one could put in a clear beverage and he wouldn't know until it was too late. Powder wouldn't alter its color. Liquid wouldn't visibly throw off its consistency. _It's brandy for God's sake. Who makes clear brandy? Answer: the French. _He loved the culture, the cities, the atmosphere. But honestly, they defiled effin' brandy. Taking a sip, the man smiled and calmed himself. _It still tasted excellent. _

Starting to enjoy himself, he glanced down both ends of the street. Only a few people walked and strolled along the Rue de Orchidée Matin. No one special caught his eye. It was only some businessmen, various young adults running from club to club, and a stray single man or woman every several minutes.

He began to wonder if someone from M16 would show up. Sighing, he pulled the small, long box from his inside jacket pocket. Underneath the jacket, he was sporting a common white undershirt. He had pulled on a pair of jeans back at the place Cunina had set up his lodging: Hôtel Mérovée.

He rubbed the dirt encrusted, black painted wood with his thumb. Around the edging, a circular golden pattern rested. The crest in the middle of the box was unrecognizable and indecipherable. It appeared old. _Very old_. Probably sometime between the late eighteenth and mid nineteenth centuries. Chuckling lightly, he doubted the box's integrity. Forgers and their techniques had only improved in the last hundred years. Anyone could make up a story about what lied inside it. Looking down at the object in his hand, he failed to see the woman approaching him.

She was shorter than most. If she was lucky, she hit 5'4". A good portion of her body was hidden under a blue trench with a light green and red plaid. Peeking out from the open collar, was a white silk button down top. Light brown woolen pants covered her legs and simple albeit elegant black pumps clicked as she walked over the pavement.

Her blackish-brown hair glimmered under the lights, refusing to be labeled as either. Before going out, she had smeared a dark wine-colored lipstick over her lips. Also, she had put on some "eye color defining" mascara (which was actually a grayish purple) to compliment her brown eyes that were sprinkled with flecks of green. The woman had also dug some grey eye shadow out of her oversized yellow leather bag and painted it on. She always tried to look her best. _Even when she had a four hour notice of going to another country._

Heels clicking to announce her appearance, she stumbled upon a rather tall _and startlingly handsome_ fellow. They had agreed to meet in front of the bistro. That was exactly where the man was. _Drinking. How lovely. _"Are you the biographer my boss spoke of?" Emma smiled at the man, gaining his attention. "I'm terribly sorry, but I have forgotten your name….Janus, is it?"

Lacking words, the man just stared at her. _Who the hell was this? He had stolen records and information about Quantum from their headquarters. He had risked his head for the safety of the entire bloody world and this was who they sent. Biographer? This girl didn't know what she was getting into, did she? _"Um, yes. I have worked hard to get this. Bring it back to your boss quickly."

Emma let her head fall to the side as she thought this over. _It was a particle separator wasn't it……_"Quickly?"

"Yes, quickly." His eyes made her blood run cold. They were very dark_. Very, very wonderfully dark_. "I would go now if I were you. I'm guessing you have a private plane?"

Emma nodded. _Shit. What was she getting into? _

"I suggest leaving now." He opened his jacket and pulled out a box. _Not a journal. _"Take this and go."

She dumbly held out her hand and he placed the box in it. Undoing the clasp on her purse with a snap, Emma nestled it in.

That's when she heard the men shouting behind her and the footsteps echoing off the ground at a swift pace.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

She had never been good at multitasking but now her life _and his_ depended on it. Emma tried to remain silent and at the same time suck up all the air in the entire planet. She had lost her breath and her heels about a mile back. _Jesus, did M hate her that much? Was it her comments on M being old? ….It must have been those….._

For someone who got up every morning and jogged for an hour along the Thames, she shouldn't be this tired. Though one could cover much more ground, running as she had just done. Emma looked around the alley her and the one called "Janus" had run into. Hopefully, they wouldn't be found in the alley. For nearly half an hour, the two of them had run as fast as their legs could carry them across the city of Paris. Apparently, Lord Byron was becoming more popular by the day. Or, more likely, M had lied to her with a smile on her old, wrinkling face. "I think we lost them….." Janus' deep voice was hushed to a whisper. His tiredness and lack or air betrayed him. A hint of a Russian accent painted the edges of his words.

Emma, more terrified than she had ever been before, just nodded. People always used the statement 'you almost gave me a heart attack' without really getting the blasted feeling. Now she knew how that saying had originated. The jolty, electric cold feeling in her chest was still as prominent as ever.

She turned around in Janus' arms and stared up into his eyes, searching for any hint of fear or surprise or concern or anything. It was becoming less and less startling that there was nothing there. Only the same neutral, stormy blue eyes.

With a huff, she turned back to where she had been. His arm was locked strongly around her waist. For a reason he didn't know or need to know at this point, from the beginning of this night, he had gained a sense of needing to protect this girl. Janus knew he wasn't one for love. He was 99.9% sure of it. Beginning at the time where he had begun his espionage career, all he felt for the opposite sex had been lust. To be truthful, he had given up all hopes of a normal life of marriage and children at the same time. It didn't feel like lust with this one. She wasn't gorgeous either. The girl was pretty, though she was plain. The shape of her face reminded him of the girls back in his homeland. Even though her accent placed her in England, Janus was sure her ancestry wasn't English.

"Listen to me……" Emma spoke into the air in front of her. "Your name is _not_ really Janus…"

There was no reply, only silence.

She was about to proclaim herself a "mythology nerd" but since that was about #7 on the list of things not to say to a fine-looking stranger, she stopped herself. After everything that had just happened, she had her doubts about the man. "I took classes on mythology in college. Janus is the god of doors and good beginnings. It is _not_ a name."

Thinking, Janus remained silent. "If I told you, I would have to kill you" would not be a good thing to say at this point. He would probably push the poor girl right over the ledge into insanity. "My name is Alexander. Janus is just a name used by my organization." The man sighed inwardly, "my organization" probably sounded just as frightening.

Emma chose not to ask about his "organization". "Um..Do you have any idea where we are?"

For all he knew, they could be in Spain by how much running they did. "Paris."

"Yes….I had gathered that, thank you." Emma gently pushed his arm off of her person. "Is it safe yet?"

"As much as I want to say yes, I don't know." Alexander took a few steps forward and peered down the passageway. It was too dark to see anything, but if it made her feel better…..He looked back at her. She was shaking and pale. The girl definitely looked worse from when they had first met.

Janus ran a hand through his thick black hair. If he wasn't endangering the girl by being so rash, he would be scouting his way back to his car by now. Reaching back, he grasped the gun he always kept hidden in the back waistband of his trousers.

Emma raised an eyebrow. _She had seen all of this in movies and read it in books but these things didn't happen. The handsome Russian spy. The gun in his back waistband. The damsel in distress. _She worked in an office building, maintained computers, did whatever odd translating job M16 needed her to do, and owned a small flat in the city. Spies weren't real life to her. Sure, she worked for the M16, but Emma disregarded these modern tales as simple fantasy and thriller, made for the telly movies. _This would be a fun story to tell the girls next cocktail night. _

"Come with me." Alexander held his hand out to the girl. "We need to stay close."

Emma stepped forward and was a bit shocked when he pulled her close to him _again_.

"I haven't even asked your name, have I?"

"It's Emma."

Not caring to put any effort into concealing his accent, Alexander spoke. "We should try to head out now." Without waiting for a response, he moved forward into the pitch black passageway, taking Emma with him. Thinking more deeply about things, he realized that Emma had been seen with him by Quantum agents. Janus looked down at the dark-haired brunette head and frowned. _He would have to make sure she was safe before doing anything else. _

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Ma'am." James quickly answered his phone while trying to look up at the clock. Out of all the minutes of the day, M had to call him just as the Astronomical Clock in Prague went through its show at noon.

"You killed him, didn't you?"

"Who?" James scowled. _Did it matter? He was a dead end._

"You know who! 003 would want to help M16 not have you run after his killer and then just shoot him! Why? Why did you kill him, Bond?"

James sighed. "He was uncooperative, a dead end. It doesn't matter. One less assassin to eliminate later." He chose to keep the mythology bit to himself. No need to make M and the boys back home go mental trying to figure it out.

For what seemed like hours there was silence.

"We lost her, Bond." The calm yet sorrowful female voice filtered through the speaker.

James was quite lost. "What do you mean 'lost'? Lost who?"

_Silence._

James removed the phone from his ear and glanced at it angrily, like it and not M was withholding information. "M, who?"

"I sent another office girl to pick up a flash drive in Paris from a rogue agent. It had information on Quantum supporters such as addresses, phone numbers, and current whereabouts. I don't know who the agency employed to steal it, but Bond, they're good."

"_Who did you lose!?" _For M to admit someone was good, something had to be terribly, hideously wrong.

"The office girl, Bond. I thought I made that obvious. Either Quantum agents have her or the rogue agent has her. She isn't answering her phone, but from tracing it she is heading to the south of France. In a very fast moving car, I might add."

"And you are telling me this because?" James was making his way out of the thick crowd and out of the square.

"I am telling you this because I want you to find her!" M snapped at her prized agent. She needed something done, _done very quickly, _and James had to be in one of his moods. _Typical. Just typical. _

Walking steadily away from the clock, James creased his brow. "Why?" Couldn't they send someone else less important than him to take care of a foolish girl?

"_Why_? She is a civilian, Bond, not an agent! We can't just let this girl be slaughtered just because I involved her in this!"

James sighed and spoke a long, drawn out, "M." He spotted his car at the end of the street. "What did you do, now?"

"……I told her the flash drive was a present for my husband. And it's 'ma'am' to you."

Unlocking the door, James answered. "Get me a flight to Paris from Ruzyne International……And however did you explain how your husband wanted a flash drive?" Without waiting for an answer, he snapped the phone shut, got into a new Aston Martin and sped off in the direction of the airport. When people were stupid, James was there to save the day.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Get Cunina on this line. Now!" The roar of an engine was humming in the back of his head as he argued with an incompetent secretary. "Do you know who this is?" He gripped the phone angrily, doing everything in his power not to crush it. "I am Janus."

Emma watched him bark into the phone, quickly becoming tired herself with the rolling landscape of Burgundy. It was surely beautiful, but when it was this dark and her secret agent friend refused to turn his headlights on, there was nothing to look at. The dark hills and fields on either side of the road were not half as entertaining as watching Alexander nearly turn a cell phone into dust.

"Yes, you should be sorry…….Fine." He gave Emma a glance before devoting is attention to the road once more. "Do you have your passport on you?" Alexander looked at her again.

"I think so." She pulled her bag from the ridiculously small back seat of the coupe and rummaged through it. "I have it." Emma waved the small red book in the air before stuffing it back in her bag. Her black cell phone caught her eye and she picked it up. Flipping it open, the back lighted screen read "12 missed calls." She pressed a few buttons and the phone displayed the missed calls. _All of them were from M. _"Alexander," she whispered.

"Cunina?.....Yes, it's me……Quantum showed up…..I'm not hurt…." He glanced at Emma and told the person on the other line to hold on. "What is it?"

"M16 has called me 12 times."

"What!?" Janus sharply turned his head to her. "I'll call you right back." He shut his phone and put it back in his jacket pocket in one quick movement. "M16? As in _the_ M16? You just work in the office, don't you?"

"Yes, I work in their office in London."

Emma watched his dark eyes become even darker. "You work for M16? Doing what?"

"I fix computers and file documents into the new system. I was planning to get enough reputation with the government to become a translator."

Alexander took a deep breath. _Duh. Why else would they send her to pick up the information? An unsuspecting young woman wouldn't be suspicious._ "How old are you anyway?"

She shot him a deadly look. _What kind of question was that in their situation? _"I'm twenty-three. How old are _you_?"

"Four years your senior." He reached for the phone in her hand, carefully keeping one hand on the wheel. Janus flipped it open and eyed the number. It must've been a private line; he didn't recognize the number. "Why are they calling? How do they know that anything has gone awry?"

"I don't know…….maybe I was supposed to get the ledger-even though I have clearly found out it is not one-and come right back."

He sighed. _That was probably the reason. _But it still made him slightly nervous. _Was M16 looking for him?_ _Did they know he had gathered the data about Quantum? _"We might as well stop for the night." Abruptly, he turned his Audi off the road and into a small town.

Emma was worried. "Is it safe to stop? Do you think they're looking for us?"

"It's alright. We're in a touristy part of France. Route des Grands Crus. _Road of great wines_. Us and probably close to a thousand others are spending the night along this road." Alexander read the small sign along the street. _Hôtel Bourgogne. _The name was very cliché but it would have to do. He read the clock on the dashboard: 1:34. Janus hoped the hotel would be open. Driving into the small parking lot, he picked a spot and killed the engine. With a quick "here we are" to Emma, he got out and waited for the woman to follow suit. Once she got and walked over to him, he slinked his arm around her waist.

"To the hotel, we are a newlywed couple on our honeymoon."

Emma laughed and stared up at him. "Whatever you say." They walked in together and Alexander nodded to the concierge.

"Any rooms left, sir?" He led Emma over to the desk. "We went out for a drink and lost track of time." Janus' voice was smooth and sure.

As the concierge was used to English speaking customers, he found it easy to answer in English as well. "Just three rooms left. What is your name?" Kicking something underneath the desk, he booted up the computer.

"My name is Alan Forest."

"Cash or credit?"

"Cash." Emma shot him a look and he shot one back. He was paying. _There was nothing he hated more than those petty arguments. _

"How long are you planning to stay with us?"

"Just tonight."

The man fished under the desk for a key and then handed it to Alexander. It was an old metal key with a wooden tag hanging on the bottom. _Room 27. _"Just to the left and up the stairs. Checkout is at eleven-thirty. Enjoy your stay." He smiled at them as they walked off. _Tourists._

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

With an impatient sigh, James walked into the bistro on Rue de Orchidée Matin. He had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. _And he was pissed. _"Would you like something, monsieur? We will be closing soon."

Bond lowered his icy eyes at the small waiter. "Just some information."

"Information?" Backing away slowly, the little man eyed James. The night had been odd enough already.

"I was wondering if you have seen my sister and brother-in-law? He phoned me and said they met outside of this place." He watched the waiter closely, looking for any signs of recognition. "She's small, has a blue plaid trench coat, black hair, pale?"

"Oh yes! I remember them! And the man is very tall, yes?"

James nodded. "Tell me a bit more about him. I need to make sure it was them."

He gave the spy a look of question but continued on despite it. "He has dark hair, dark eyes, a suit coat and jeans?"

Bond let out a dry chuckle and sounded very unenthusiastic. "That's him! Do you know where they went?"

The waiter paused and began to look afraid. "Three thugs came out of the alley and chased them down the street." His eyes lit up and he looked as if he remembered something. "Your brother dropped his room key!"

James watched as the man ran inside the restaurant and then came running back with a square piece of black plastic in his hand. He gave it to James and smiled. "There you go."

James smiled even wider than the man and placed a few euro in his hand. "Good job, my friend." Without another word, Bond walked off examining the room key and wondering where in Paris the Hôtel Mérovée was.

He hailed a taxi and went to find out.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

To James' surprise, there was already someone coming to gather the rogue agent's things. _That wouldn't do. _Silently, he pushed the open door a little further. He took a few steps into the room, careful not to attract the attention of surely another agent.

Bond waited a few seconds, as the other agent dropped the suitcase by the bed and strolled towards the window. He could get a good look at him now.

The other agent was dressed in a nondescript black suit, and a white collared shirt. His skin was a warm brown and his hair was cut short and a darker brown. It was easy to see the man's muscles bulging out from his tailored outfit. James approved; it would be a well matched struggle. And not one to be attacked first, he lunged at the man.

As soon as Bond had tackled the man, he rolled over but not without kicking the British spy in the stomach first. James looked to his right, picked up a heavy lamp from the bedside table and proceeded to chuck it at his opponent's head. "Bugger.." He had ducked. With a loud crash, the lamp sailed through the window breaking the glass.

Now it was James' turn to be on the defensive. The other agent was lunging for him. James tried to dodge to the right, but it was to no avail. He was tackled at an odd angle and grunted as his hip slammed into the hardwood floor. A punch was thrown at his face and then another. _That would hurt in the morning. _The enemy quickly reached towards his back and when his hand came into view again there was a gun in it. James acted quickly.

Since he was pinned down, he sat up with force and head butted the other, catching him off guard. Bond got to his feet, lifted his opponent by the neck and held him against the bedpost. He turned his head swiftly to see the gun was now safely out of grasp and on the floor. Releasing one of his hands from the man's neck he drew it back and instantly gave an ugly black bruise as he punched him.

Bond let him fall to the floor than rubbed his hands together, satisfied the man wouldn't rise quickly. He took a wallet out of the man's pant pocket, a folder out of his inside jacket pocket, and a passport out of his front chest pocket. _He would be staying in Paris for a little while. _

He grabbed the black bag off of the bed, calmly slung it over his shoulder, walked out of the room and locked the door behind him. A young man came out of the room next door. He looked deathly afraid; he had heard the scuffle. James simply smiled. "Bonjour, monsieur."

He walked down the hall, ignoring the doors as they opened to see what had happened. Pressing the down button on the elevator, James fumbled through the other's wallet for some money. Once the doors opened, he stepped into the golden, mirrored elevator. Bond smiled as the door closed in his individual smart ass way. He pressed a button and was off to the ground floor.

A few pings from the elevator later and he was walking calmly towards the concierge at the front desk. "Express checkout please." The woman just stared at him, cuts and bruises covering his face, a button missing from his ripped shirt. She shook her head and did as she was asked.

James put on his charming smile. "Merci, madam." Once the process was complete, he walked out of Hôtel Mérovée and opened the folder. Unexpectedly, the orders were in Italian and addressed to a "Mantus." Bond frowned. Mantus was the Roman god of the Underworld. And he had a wife, Mania, goddess of the dead, undead and personification of insanity. James sensed he would be getting a revenge call from Mania sometime in the future.

Putting his focus back on Mantus, he pulled a driver's license out of the wallet and read the name. _Mantus Acheron. _The British secret agent frowned again. He had paid attention during his mythology classes in primary school. Acheron was a river that ran through Hades, the Underworld of mythology.

Sighing, Bond tucked the folder into his jacket and called M. _He would need a nice new Aston Martin especially for France, wouldn't he?_

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Thanks for the great review, devilwoman15. I always love to write M/James. I don't ship them though, if that's what you mean. (at least not in this fic lol) Thanks for reading too, I appreciate it. Happy new year btw!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

_Dear God, that bed is frickin' hard. _Emma groaned lightly, expecting to open her eyes and see the organized mess of her flat. Remembering everything that had happened, she groaned again and buried her face in the pillow. Staying still, she waited for a few seconds to regain her composure. This entire experience would take a long time to forget.

Emma pushed the covers off and reluctantly got out of bed. _Maybe she was still dreaming. Maybe she would wake up in London with a bad hangover. _Hope rising, she pinched her forearm. _No such luck._ Her eyes darted to the door on the side wall that led into Alexander's room. Emma wondered whether or not he was up. It didn't matter either way. She still had to get ready.

The floor was very cold. Her bare feet weren't prepared for that. Emma walked quickly in to cramped bathroom. Looking up at the tiles, she guessed wine was a reoccurring theme. The entire bathroom was tiles in faux-aged tiles with a flowing grape and vine pattern around the top of the room. She guessed that the last time the hotel had been updated was 1980.

Emma eyed the old shower with disgust. She would take one _very, very_ fast shower. Undressing quickly because of the cold, Emma nearly tripped over the bathmat. _She was more tired than she thought._ Her legs were now feeling the running she had done. There was a growing need to sit down somewhere but Emma fought it off.

She needed someplace to think. And oddly enough, she usually thought in the shower. Stepping inside, and cranking the handle all the way to the top, Emma contemplated her situation. _She always played stupid. _Always. _It had it's…..advantages. _Emma would let Alexander take over. He was handsome, nice to look at. Surely, she would be more than pleased to spend a few more days with him. The only thing was she _had_ to play it stupid. When she had gone to her best friend, Strawberry Field's, funeral, she had realized how dangerous MI6 was. _How could she have been that stupid to think she was getting a no-strings-attached trip to Paris? _ Squeezing on the bottle of shampoo, Emma realized she had no earthly idea of when she would get to go home. _A week. A month. _Janus could take her all around the continent and she would be in no position to argue.

The agent was sweet. _And hopefully he would stay that way. _There was a chance she could make it out of this. _Should she call M?_ The question had been bothering her all night. Emma had only gotten two hours of sleep. By staying overnight at a hotel, had their pursuers caught up? Pursuers she didn't even know the organization of. _Honestly, she had been too horrified to ask. _Turning the shower off, her wet hair clung to her back, not helping to keep her warm on the April morning.

The air in the small room was still heavy with water. _Her shower must have been scalding._ Emma coughed and slid over to the window. _She needed some air in this room._

As soon as she opened the window, Alexander's voice fluttered in. The British woman stuck her head outside and looked downward. Alexander was leaning against the side of the hotel, a cell phone pressed to his ear. Out of sheer curiosity, Emma decided against revealing herself and listened to his conversation. Last night, with the roar of the engine, she had been unable to hear who the other person had been. This was a once in a lifetime chance to hear a non-MI6 spy talk to his superlatives, and Emma knew it.

"Why? Why would he do that? He's going to get us all killed."

"_There were no signs of a struggle as well, just bullet wounds. Retribution is quick apparently when one kills a double-0." _

"So Viduus just let the man shoot him?"

"_You knew him just as well as I did, Janus. He probably thought he could talk his way out of it."_

Emma bit her lip and continued listening. She made a disturbing mental note that someone from Alexander's organization had killed a double-0.

"……_.The same man is looking for you now-"_

"You're joking."

"_Don't interrupt me." _The voice became slightly menacing. _"He has gotten to Mantus. Mania found him dead in your hotel room back in Paris. Whoever it was gave him a hard knock to the skull. His orders were gone, his passport and cash were gone. Your bag was missing also. I hope you had nothing important in it."_

Janus visibly tensed, enough that Emma could see it by watching him at her odd angle. They killed Mantus? Who was Mantus? Who were_ they?_

"_Watch yourself, Janus. You know that you are my favorite. This man wants something, I do not know if it is just orders or a matter of reprisal. Be truthful with me, now. Have you done anything that deserves to be punished?"_

The British woman held her breath as Alexander stayed silent. _Please, please be innocent. _

"I haven't done anything, no. But-"

"_What the hell do you mean, but?!"_

"There is a girl with me. She was meant to pick up my findings for MI6. Quantum found out and chased us around Paris. I need to keep her safe."

"_You love her, don't you?"_

The ten second silence spoke volumes."I do. What does it matter?" Emma nearly gasped from the window. _It had only been one night._

"_How is she linked to MI6? She could be useful." _

The last two exchanges left Emma stunned. What else could they possibly say?

"She just works in an office. And you know I would never do that."

"_One second."_

There was a long pause, and some light voices.

"_You were right. It's Bond."_

"Fuck." Alexander took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. "Alright, I have to go."

"_Stay alive."_ A click of a shutting phone echoed up to the second floor. Emma froze. _How the hell could she explain that?_ She thought fast and pulled her head back inside. The woman crossed her fingers and prayed Janus didn't look up.

Now wearing a towel, Emma put on some makeup. _Enough to look halfway decent. _She brushed her teeth and then proceeded to throw on a pair of navy slacks, a logoed t-shirt and her plaid coat. Next, she packed up everything and threw it into her small suitcase that her and Janus had gone back to retrieve. Emma then closed the window, walked back out into the room, and continued to leave and lock the door.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Bond touched the minus symbol on the side of the GPS screen in his Aston Martin, and the screen zoomed out to reveal the 25 kilometer radius of Linton's phone. James continued to drive along the Route des Grands Crus, shaking his head that the girl hadn't caught on about the phone. It was very obvious.

Though agents always thought of those types of things. Perhaps the everyday person didn't think like that. Bond sighed. _That must be it._

Vineyards and villages whizzed past the coupe as James gunned the engine. _He would need to catch up with them_. The screen pinged, and James glanced down at thing. By going at the ridiculous speed he was, Bond was making fast progress. Soon, he would be right behind them. _And he would be quite the surprise. _After a few minutes, he had spotted nothing. _Nothing!?_

James slowed his car by a dramatic amount of speed, not wanting to catch their attention before it was necessary, wherever they were. Almost on cue, his in-car phone rang. Before he had a chance to mutter a half-hearted greeting, M was already yapping out of the speaker. "You're gaining on them Bond."

James continued to look steadily at the road and its lack of anything. "Thanks for the update, ma'am. I never would've known."

"Quiet, Bond." James let out a quiet sigh. _M could've been happier. After all, he was playing babysitter to M's officemate. _"I need you to get Miss Linton and bring her back to London."

"Really?" 007 quickly lost his temper. He had little patience as it was, he didn't need M to tell him what to do every fourteen seconds. "I thought I was just going to say 'hi' and then come home."

M's growl filled the car, "Bond." There was a pause. "I also want the rogue agent to be brought to London. _Unharmed and __**alive.**_"

"I'll see what I can do." James remained solemn and stepped on the gas a bit more.

"_No._ You will do as I say. If that man is dead, God help you."

"Yes, yes. Bye now." Bond pressed a button on the screen and M's needling was terminated. He pressed a few more buttons and Linton's location was revealed. James didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He would have to go into a tourist trap hotel.

He sat silently, steering the Aston Martin up and down the hills of wine country. Bond saw a building rise out of the fields and then sink back down as he went up a hill. He estimated it to be about 10 kilometers off. But impatience was one of the many things which made him Bond. James stepped on the accelerator again, and reached the building in under two minutes.

The car park of the hotel was nearly empty. James sighed. Usually there was an out of place supercar parked in a shaded corner or concealed behind a tree. _There was nothing. _He pulled into a space and jogged up to the front door of the hotel, opening the door and smiling at the young woman at the desk. "I am afraid I lost my sister, mademoiselle. We were supposed to stay here last night but my flight was delayed. Is there any chance you could have seen her?"

The woman swept a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. "I will try my best."

"She is a very pale girl, twenty-three, with dark hair and brown eyes. Her name is Emma and she is with my brother-in-law if it's any help."

"Oh yes, sir. I have seen her." The concierge smiled and pointed further into the lobby at a girl who fit the description. James squinted. _That had to be her._

"Thank you very much." Bond strolled over to where Emma sat. She was completely unaware, reading a hard-covered blue book, alone sitting in a floral armchair. "Miss Linton." James plopped down beside her on a couch in the same atrocious print. "Your boss sent me here to bring you back to London."

Emma scowled at him. She knew the face. "Mr. Bond." He had gotten Strawberry killed. Her best friend, dead at twenty-five because she slept with him.

James made a mental note to ask her later how she knew his name. "Where is the agent? M wants him back in London as well."

"The agent?" 007 nodded. "He is gone. He left an hour ago."

Bond angrily leaned forward, very much in Emma's face. "What the hell do you mean 'he _left_ an hour ago'?" James spat the words out. There was no way of tracking this man.

James was thoroughly surprised when the girl leaned forward and used the same tone he had. "I didn't think I could put it any simpler, Mr. Bond. For someone who can lure a woman into his bed with 'I can't find the stationary' I thought you would be more intelligent."

He was at a loss for words. 007 had to think for a moment when he had used that line.

"Want me to remind you, Bond? Strawberry Fields."

James thought it best not to crack a smile at the name. He could see the light muscles on the girl's arms.

"She called me crying that she had slept with a man who had said less than 10 words to her. It was the day before she was killed." Raw hate seeped into Emma's brown eyes. "Strawberry was my best friend. We grew up together, and she died because of you." She stood and started to walk away. "_Now bloody take me home!"_

Bond rose and followed after her. _Was it bad he didn't feel that guilty? _"Oh no you don't." He grabbed her by the arm and spoke close to her face again. "We have to find you agent friend first."

"And how do you expect to do that?" Emma glared at 007.

"You tell me everything you know about him, that's a start."

She stepped back a few steps away from James and thought of something to say. "He didn't tell me his name….He blindfolded me until we got here. But he still saved me from those thugs in Paris, so I didn't make a scene."

Bond eyed her, searching for signs of a lie. If she wasn't telling the truth, she was good.

"The _'agent'_ put me up in a room here, he was in another room. He knocked on my door at eleven and said he was leaving. He knew someone would come for me." Emma tried not to seem too nervous. Obviously, her words were lies. Janus had left her at the hotel reluctantly after goodbye sex. She had ordered him to go, for she knew that M would send an agent after her. _And she couldn't guarantee how one of the MI6 would react to him. _

"Alright, let's go." Without waiting for a response, James walked out of the building and headed out to his car.

Emma calmly strode after him. She reached the Aston Martin and stared at it for a few seconds. _How did these people afford these cars? _

"Where is he going?" James broke the awkward silence and opened the door for Emma to get in. "Do you have any idea?"

"No." She leaned further back into the seat. Awkward silence followed. Emma decided that if she didn't tell him, it would be too obvious she was lying. "The agent had a scar on his face. I remember that."

James turned to look at her. _Trevelyan? _"Anything else?"

Emma frowned. "No, I just thought that would be helpful."

"It is." Bond looked at her again. "Do you have the information M wanted?"

She pulled the drive out of her bag. "I do."

Grabbing it out of her hand and concealing it within his jacket pocket, James replied, "Good."

Sighing, she knew that this would be a long ride.

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Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate it, it's nice to know someone reads it lol. Thx so much!


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